


Bubbles

by BurntWhisky1



Series: Tempted [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Attraction, Codependency, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntWhisky1/pseuds/BurntWhisky1
Summary: Dean, naked and wet...





	Bubbles

 

 

The vampire’s last move before Sam lops off its head is to throw its arm out. It’s not a random movement; it’s a last deliberate killing blow from a monster that knows it is doomed.

Unfortunately the arm connects with Dean’s chest and he disappears down the staircase with a series of pained grunts and the sound of breaking stair rails.

The vampire’s head is still rolling across the gold-colored shag pile carpet and Sam is already leaping down the stairs to where his brother lies in a crumpled heap on the wooden parquet flooring of the hallway.

“Dean!”

Dean moans and his limbs twitch feebly.

“Dean.” It’s like the lament of a lost young animal and Sam knows it, but he can’t help it, the way his brother’s name bursts from his lips.

“’M fine.” Dean stirs in response and rolls slowly onto his back, eyes still screwed shut. “Didya get it.”

“Got it.” Sam confirms, his hands steadily running a triage over his brother’s recumbent form. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere…” Dean opens his eyes cautiously and blinks. “But nothin’ serious.”

“Stay down a bit. I’ll clean up.”

“Yeah,” says Dean, running a tongue over his lips and letting his eyes slide shut. “Jus’ give me a minute. Get m’breath.”

He rubs at his ribs with a grimace and Sam reluctantly heads upstairs to clear up the mess.

.

It takes nearly seventy two hours before Dean will admit his back is a mess. He’s been brushing off Sam’s enquiries and soldiering on and would probably never have admitted anything was wrong at all if his body hadn’t decided enough was enough.

He pulls over on a wide verge at the side of the road “to stretch” his muscles. This isn’t a surprise because he’s been driving with one shoulder lower than the other and a pinch of white around his nostrils for at least the last two hours. He puts the Impala in ‘park’, pulls the door handle and boots the door open with his foot. That has Sam on full alert straight away, because Dean absolutely does not kick the Impala’s door panel without very good reason.

It appears that this time he has good reason because, despite the hefty kick he just delivered with his left leg, he can’t seem to lift his right leg out of the car without assisting it with a hand on either side of his thigh. He hisses, gets both boots firmly on the ground and promptly goes down on the dirt with a thud.

Sam makes it round to the other side of the car in record time, and he doesn’t even go for the Starsky and Hutch style hood-slide. Dean is flat on the floor, his hand is fisted in the small of his back and his face is a sickly shade of green.

Sam says something impolite and although it takes a while and Dean goes from green to very pale and sweaty, eventually Sam gets him into the Impala and in due course back out again and into a very nice room in a very nice motel.

“S’nice.” Dean notes. He is soft and dreamy with the super-sized painkillers that Sam insisted he take in the Impala and is being uncharacteristically obliging.

It is nice and Sam is paying, really paying, with money he has stashed away in his duffle bag for just such an occasion. A couple of nights somewhere comfortable will do them both good and it will be nice to actually have a bath without risk of catching some deadly disease.

“I’m gonna take a good look at your back,” Sam states in a firm tone. Dean has limbs of rubber and heavy eyelids and goggles at him before allowing himself to be positioned face-down on the bed.

As soon as Sam lifts the layers of shirt and t-shirt he can see his brother’s back is a mass of bruising and although that must be painful it’s most probably the tight lump of twisted muscle snuggling up against his spine that is causing all the trouble.

Sam runs a thumb over it experimentally and Dean jerks in shock. Bingo.

“Sorry,” says Sam. “Your muscles are all screwed up. A massage would help…”

He’s about the sing the praises of sport massages but Dean cuts him off. “No massages. Not ‘less you’ve got a hot chick handy?” He leers at Sam and Sam snorts, irritated.

“Okay. Hot bath then.” He heads into the bathroom without waiting to see if Dean is going to protest or not. “Don’t go to sleep.”

A few minutes later steam is billowing from the bathroom in pale clouds and the smell of strawberries fills the air courtesy of the free complimentary bath products. Sam is impressed; he can’t remember the last time they stayed somewhere with anything complimentary other than the occasional cockroach.

Dean is snoring lightly despite Sam’s instructions but he soon wakens when Sam’s touch ghosts over his back.

“Jeez Sammy,” he mutters.

“I know,” says Sam. “But this’ll help, Dean, really.”

His brother sits up with extreme care, loses some color from his cheeks and gains some tight wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He manages to get his over-shirt off, but gets stuck in the t-shirt and begrudgingly accepts some help.

Sam takes the boots without permission, allows Dean to undo his belt and pants and steadies his arm as he steps out of them.

Dean delivers a death glare and they ignore the fact that he is about to get into the bath in his boxers. Sam mainly tries to ignore the fact that his brother is wearing only boxers and that they cling very snugly to his tight ass and just about everything else. He’s been so wrapped up in Dean’s pain that it only now occurs to him that his brother is nearly naked and will soon be wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight wet boxers.

Sam averts his eyes like a nun and reminds himself that things that happen in parking lots when someone is drunk do not mean anything at all. He takes his brother’s elbow in a firm grasp and it all goes well until Dean is stepping into the tub. His left leg goes up and over the edge just fine, but as it does so his right leg folds and his full body weight falls into Sam. Sam is half-expecting this to happen, but he’s not expecting the surge of electricity that shoots through his body when Dean, all warm, smooth skin over hard muscle, falls into his arms.

Dean’s face is screwed up with pain and pink with embarrassment and so Sam eases him into the bath tub as carefully as possible. His brother gasps a little at the heat but his teeth are gritted and his knuckles are white on the sides of the bath and Sam knows another painkiller is needed, right now. 

“Last one for a couple of hours,” he warns as Dean swallows it with a gulp of cold water from the plastic cup Sam shoves under his nose.

“Try and relax, Dean. Let the warmth get into your muscles.”

Dean nods but he is taut with stress and pain, so Sam begins to scoop water up and over his back and shoulders in steady, calm waves.

“Hey.” Dean protests, but his voice is weak and Sam ignores him, noting that the flow of warm water over his brother’s broad shoulders is visibly easing the tension.

He keeps the tap dribbling hot water, allowing the excess to escape down the overflow, then hands Dean the washcloth and complimentary bath product so he can clean his own face and hair. Dean does this in a half-hearted and sleepy kind of way and Sam sees that his brother’s eyes are now soft and dreamy and the lines at the side of his mouth have eased.

“There you go,” says Sam in a soothing tone as he slips the washcloth out of his brother’s lax fingers. He smiles a little to himself, because he knows that without the horse-sized tranquilizers there’s no way his brother would be in a bathtub allowing Sam to lather up a cloth and slide it carefully over his shoulders and down his spine.

The soapy lather and the warm water make Dean’s skin all soft and slippery and Sam abandons the cloth, using his fingertips instead to swirl soothing patterns along his brothers ribs, kneading at the back of his neck and sliding his hands down the muscled arms. He works his fingers into the knot of muscle along Dean’s spine and his brother gives a breathy little groan of relief and satisfaction.

Dean is fair and pale gold where the sun has caught his skin and that same skin sits smooth and silky over the long bones and lean muscle, outlines tendons and peaks into nipples that slip button-like under Sam’s long fingers when he slides his hands around to the front of his brother’s torso.

Dean is almost asleep now, his eyes emerald slits under dark, heavy fans. Tiny droplets of water sit on his lips and balance on the ends of his lashes and he sighs in contentment as Sam sweeps a soapy, gentle hand across his ribs and onto his stomach.

Sam's hand meanders, exploring further south over Dean's abs and the wet ridge of the top of the boxers feels coarse and unpleasant after his brother’s skin, so Sam says firmly, “I’m gonna take these off.”

Dean murmurs something incomprehensible and leans back against the end of the bath, letting his head drop back to rest on the edge.

Sam hesitates, loses an argument with himself, and hooks a couple of fingers from each hand into the waistband of the boxers over each protruding hip bone. One smooth, clean pull and they’re down to Dean’s knees and then off, cast away to lie in a soggy pile under the sink.

Excitement raises Sam's pulse rate as he raises his eyes from Dean’s knees, tracking the passage of his own hand as it slips, ever so slowly, up the inside of his brother’s thigh to where his dick floats in tangles of dark curls. Sam’s breath catches; even this is beautiful, perfectly formed.

Sam dries one hand, reaches out a long arm and knocks the light switch down so they are bathed in a dim glow. Dean’s eyes are closed now and his breath comes slow and easy through slightly parted lips so Sam leans forwards, slips a finger underneath Dean’s balls and strokes, slow, smooth movements that make his brother’s dick twitch, then fill a little as Sam’s finger continues its glide along the taint.

Sam licks his lips, his heart is racing and he's shaking a little, so he gulps a quick, calming breath and then takes Dean’s balls in his palm, wraps his fingers around them and massages gently as he leans forwards.

Dean sighs, his warm, moist breath ghosting over Sam’s face and Sam lowers his mouth, gently capturing the full lips with his own as he slips his little finger along the taint then slides his hand off Dean’s balls and takes hold of the base of his dick. A hot pulse beats in the base of Sam’s spine when he finds his brother is half-hard and he swells, pushing painfully against his own zip.

Sam jerks open his fly, takes his erection in his left hand and strokes both hands up and down, his own dick is huge now, pulsing with blood and Dean’s cock fills in his hand, the skin tightening rapidly, hot blood pumping under his fingers. 

Sam takes Dean’s lips again, harder this time, and his brother moans, wanton and dirty, into his mouth and Sam slips his tongue inside, suckling on Dean’s tongue, biting gently at his lips. He always knew his brother would be a dirty kisser. 

Dean bucks a little under his hand, begins pushing his hips up into Sam’s fist and his cock is rigid now, filling Sam’s hand; he makes a little growl in his throat and it’s so very, very hot that Sam spurts a little, gasps into his brother’s mouth and fucks him hard with his tongue.

Dean’s neck arches back over the end of the bath; his pelvis is fucking frantically up into Sam’s hand and Sam finds he is rutting hard against the edge of the bath-tub and he’s so close, the pressure of liquid fire building at the base of his spine.

“Dean,” he moans. And immediately Dean goes rigid, his cock pulsing hard in Sam’s hand and a soft mewling sound coming out of his throat.

Sam comes, so hard he sees stars and he keeps kissing, kissing, stroking gently and Dean groans a satisfied, slutty little moan that wrings a few more drops from the end of Sam’s cock.

“Sammy.” It’s a sigh, a whisper, and Dean’s eyes are closed, his face all soft with sleep and satisfaction.

Sam pulls away, drops back on his haunches and slips his hand away from his brother’s softening dick. His hand is covered with his brothers cum and his own slides down the outside of the tub and onto the knees of his jeans.

He gets his breath, cleans the floor and scrubs his jeans vigorously with a towel. Then he reaches into the bath and slips an arm beneath Dean’s shoulders and one beneath his knees and lifts. Dean is very heavy and warm and slippery and his head lolls into the crook of Sam’s neck and Sam will never, ever drop him.

He lays him on his bed on soft towels and dabs him dry with awe, dropping tiny kisses on the strawberry scented skin, not quite able to process what just happened and still not sure he heard his name. He slides the damp towels away and wraps his brother warm, positions his head on the pillows and very, very gently kisses his forehead, presses a light kiss on each closed and soft eyelid and then very lovingly kisses his warm, sensuous mouth.

Dean’s asleep, but he opens his mouth a little and kisses Sam back.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Love to hear from ya : )


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